


The Stars Will Be Our Diamonds

by obsidianlullaby



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsidianlullaby/pseuds/obsidianlullaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Grand Highblood cannot belong to anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stars Will Be Our Diamonds

At six sweeps, your lusus judges you old enough to be presented to her. It pisses you off, being nagged and groomed and made into a pretty, perfect package for some sea-bitch who doesn’t even pay her motherfucking respects to the Messiahs like any civilized motherfucker does. You have already decided to hate her, even before you meet her. You walk, slow and slouching, to the beach, clubs out in plain sight.

She is standing there, hip jutted out and arms akimbo, a crown of gold on her head and tyranny in her mocking eyes. Fins flare at either side of her face, and her soaking hair is bound in two long braids.

[](http://imgur.com/A7mlJ)

“Motherfuck,” she snorts. “Momma made me swim up to the surfish just to meet this bitch? Raw deal, yo.”

That day, you are Kurloz Makara, and she is Meenah Peixes. The next time you meet, you will be The Grand Highblood, and she will be Her Imperial Condescension. You will understand everything, then, the both of you. But neither of you will like it.

 

They all come running to you, the little fuckers, when they don’t know what to do with her. Many of them are of a higher blood than you, but they still defer to you, as the Messiahs intended them to. All defer to you, save one.

She defers to no one.

You find her on a hill. Well, okay, you don’t find her. It’s more like you’re dragged to her by a lot of distraught fishy brats. They herd you toward her, then flee.

You lumber up to her, and you don’t think she even notices. It’s an impressive feat, considering your size. She is gazing at the stars, the jewel-sparkling miracles against a sky as dark as the Carnival.

“Meenah,” you grunt.

She immediately goes for her culling-fork and snarls, ready to make you bleed, until she realizes who you are and relaxes. “Don’t be fucking callin’ me that, Kurloz,” she says, but the hostility is melting out of her.

“Only if you start calling me The Grand Motherfucking Highblood like all the rest of them fools,” you reply, sitting down beside her. She wears her hair loose, now, and you can scarcely tell where hers stops and yours starts. Shit’s fucking trippy.

The Condesce snorts. “The only fin that’s grand about you is what a fucking tool you are. What do you want, yo?”

“Got sent up by a gaggle of your attendants,” you explain. “They’re motherfucking concerned.”

“Fuck ‘em,” she says, at once.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Whatchu up to?”

“Thinking,” she says, then adds, “about the future.”

“Awh, don’t all up and get going on that, Meenah,” you say. “Future’s for the Messiahs to fuck with and us hunker down and bear with.”

“I was thinking about the stars,” she continues on as though you’d never spoken. “There’s stuff out there, you know,” She grins. “Sweet loot, ripe for the taking.”

“Except we ain’t got no way to go get it. You know those designs don’t work. Not enough power.”

She looks at you, deep, deep as the abyss she hails from. “What if I told you that I found the power?”

She looks like she might actually level with you, and you feel something stir. “Where?”

She smirks a pirahna’s smirk. “Remember the--the mutant’s pet psionic?”

“As if I could forget that motherfu-- _oh_.” It dawns on you. “ _Oh_.”

“You’ve been okay. You’re pretty handy with the lowbloods, yeah? You’re okay. I’ll find you one,” she says. “You can have your own ship. Shell, you can have your own fleet. You feel me now, Kurloz? You and me, we’re gonna take the _stars._ ”

So you and she take the stars.

 

You have done the righteous act and got your pail on, making the wicked carnalations with more trolls than you can count because that was always intended, but there was never an ounce of true love or hate to it. Can’t anyone say another troll ever _owned_ you acos you belong to the Messiahs alone. You cannot love Meenah Peixes because to love is to weaken yourself. A calming, caring influence is not in either of your best interests. You need to be sharp, and a blade is sharpened with force, not tenderness.

You cannot love Meenah Peixes.

You gut every troll who speaks ill of her because she is the empress, and ill will to one authority will breed ill will to the other. You wring the necks of her sleazier suitors because the empress’s consort needs to be a worthy ruler. You foil assassination attempt after assassination attempt because Alternia couldn’t hope for as ruthless a leader to follow her. You tell everyone who asks that you already have a moirail simply because you do not want one. Your every gift to her has a diamond hidden in it somewhere as sheer coincidence.

You could not care less for Meenah Peixes, really.

When she is weeping into your shoulder, the way you rub her back is utterly platonic. When you turn your cheek to her for kisses, it’s only motherfucking polite. When you crawl into the sopor with her and whisper that she is your great heresy, your unrighteous sin, and she tells you to clam up and shooshes you to sleep, it is all forgotten in the morning.

You certainly do not love Meenah Peixes.


End file.
